about this ship's construction. It was more than merely clumsy, it was grotesque! Carefully he eased along, examining it. For one thing there were too many air-locks, even for a ship of this size. Ric shook his head in puzzlement.

He began trying his tractor beam on those locks, tightening the beam slowly. The locks held. Still he persisted, easing the Falcon along the hull; he had to gain an entrance somewhere! With any kind of luck....

Then, somewhere amidships, one of the locks opened under the steady pull of his beam. Slowly it swung outward. Ric's hands flew to the controls. Carefully he eased the Falcon forward and into the lock. There was room to spare. The outer door closed and he heard generators humming, automatically building up an atmosphere. Finally they stopped and he knew it was safe. He leaped down from the Falcon.

The inner door was swinging back automatically. For a moment Ric hesitated; then he stepped through, saw that he was in some sort of control room. There were instruments such as he'd never seen in any spacer! He stared around uncertainly. Then from behind him came a queerly accented voice.

"Greetings, Earthman. But I won't say welcome, yet. You will please turn around—slowly!"

Ric turned. A Martian holding a heat gun stepped from behind a bulwark. The Martian came forward and the gun got playful with the third button on Ric's tunic.

Ric had expected this. Naturally they'd be suspicious of an Earthman aboard—but he could soon explain things. He stepped back a little from the gun.

"I'm friendly. I must see Dar Mihelson at once! I come with urgent news!"

"So? What news?"

"Wessell's massing the Earth Fleet. In thirty-six hours they'll be out here to meet you. He'll never allow you to land on Earth!"

"So. Hear that, Kueelo?" He addressed a second Martian who was busy at work over a bank of levers.

This man looked up and grinned, and Ric liked him even less than the one crowding him. He especially didn't like the eyes. They were strange and colorless, not quite Martian.

"Yes, I heard. Take care of him, Luhor; we haven't much time!"

Luhor surged forward, bringing the gun 

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